March 2, 2016

In the closet
Our clothes are touching.

The shirt sleeves entwined,
Like they remember our skin.

All your posessions
Are screaming the lack of you.

I wander the house,
And cry over a pair of your pants.

January 2, 2015

“Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.

Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: “I like strong women.” If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because “I like strong women” is code for “I hate strong women.”)” 
― Gillian FlynnGone Girl

September 6, 2014

the smell of
summer bbq,
the brownies not-quite baked,
the batter in the bowl that's better
than what it's made to make.
the crack crack
of creme brulee,
the crispy crust of pie,

i think i'll keep on eating these until
the day i die.

the cheeses,
the chocolates,
cream puffs in fondue,
with toppings and saucings
all mixed in there too.
the butter,
the bread,
that hazelnut spread,

i think i'll keep on eating these
until the day i'm dead.

August 22, 2014

the dog days of summer,
sun softening 
the grass
as we step off onto a skillet
of cement.
corner stores, and ice cream,
and that sunscreen 
smell on your collar,
the dog days of summer

June 4, 2014

a bouncing baby boy on my knee
looking so much like his dad-
and i could see him as a child
and the way he was loved.
the same bouncing baby boy,
rosy face a ripe fruit on a hot day.
and on this hot day cotton
fell from the sky like snow-
wasn't it just yesterday
we saw this same scene,
cheeks rosy instead from frost.
isn't it all just the same
but a new season

November 16, 2013

the fog of the shower is in my lungs - but
i make myself shiver
before i get in.
that thrill of the heat only lasts so long
everything's better before it happens.

April 24, 2013

how many more summers do I have left with you
how many more shorelines, beaches
how much more
lying on towels
sitting in the shades
how many more shouting
voices from the water
smell of sunscreen on your body
sparkles of wet on your hair, your eyebrows
drops sliding down the goosebumps
on your skin
how many are left with you